Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 22

Aemond

Aemond stormed into his chambers, the weight of conflicting emotions pressing down on him like a suffocating cloak. He paced restlessly, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest, the lingering scent of her still haunting the air around him. His hand slid over the growing hardness straining against his trousers, a raw groan escaping as need surged through him, demanding release.

He was supposed to hate her—despise her—but the moment he saw her, all his carefully built walls crumbled. It felt as if his body no longer belonged to him, his heart beating to a rhythm beyond his control. The fierce desire burning inside him was maddening, consuming every thought.

Aenyra held a grip on him that nothing could break. No matter how deeply he tried to bury those feelings beneath layers of anger and resentment, his heart continued to ache and plead for her.

No I won't give into this urge, she is nothing but a whore like her mother. Knowing she's betrothed to someone else but has the nerve to seek me out.

Releasing his grip on himself, Aemond exhaled a shaky breath before forcing the desire—and everything it stirred—back into the dark recesses of his mind where he had always kept it. He did what he had done for years: buried every emotion, every weakness, and locked it away behind the cold steel of his resolve.

Silently, he pulled on a dark green leather tunic, smoothing it down with rigid precision. Without another thought, without allowing himself to feel, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him like the seal of a vault.

————-

Aenyra stumbled into her chambers in a daze, the door clicking softly shut behind her. Her fingers instinctively brushed over her wrists, the ghost of his touch still tingling against her skin. She closed her eyes, the memory of his breath against her neck flashing vividly in her mind—warm, consuming, and far too intimate. A shiver ran through her, her body still betraying her even as her thoughts turned turbulent.

Her heart ached with a longing she hadn't felt in years, but that yearning quickly soured into confusion... then anger. His voice, so cold and dismissive—Stay away from me, Niece—echoed in her ears like a slap. How could someone look at her like she was the only thing in the world and then walk away as if she meant nothing?

Hot tears welled in her eyes as she began to pace the room, arms wrapped around herself in a poor attempt to hold everything in. Her thoughts spiraled back to the last time she'd seen him before the war, when their stolen moments had been tender, filled with whispered promises and unsaid truths. She remembered how his fingers had brushed hers as they sat beside each other under moonlight... how his eye had softened only for her.

And now? That softness was gone—buried beneath bitterness and walls she couldn't break through.

Aenyra pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the storm within her. She had waited so long for this reunion... and now she wasn't sure if she was heartbroken from seeing him again—or from the realization that maybe the boy she once knew was gone forever.

They had shared their first real kiss beneath the cover of night—soft, uncertain, but filled with promise. And when they parted, it had been with lingering smiles and eyes full of silent longing. Nothing had gone wrong between them, nothing that would warrant this cold, detached stranger he had become.

So why?
Why was he looking at her like she was just another pawn on the board?

Her jaw clenched as she crossed the room, yanking open the wardrobe the maidservants had carefully unpacked in her absence. Her fingers skimmed over fine silks and velvets, pausing when they met the familiar fabric of one of her favorite dresses—elegant, daringly form-fitting, and dyed a deep shade that made the crystal blue of her eyes burn even brighter.